Sophia's Story, Santa Margherita, Italy

My grandmother lives in Italy, on the coast near Santa Margherita, and my family has gone to stay with her every summer. There is a path from her house that winds down into the town that I’ve followed so many times that I cannot count them. One summer, when I was 18, I was walking down into town and noticed a boy my age outside one of the houses that line the path. He had his back to me and was sawing a piece of wood.  Although I couldn’t see his face I knew I’d never seen him before-over the years I had met everyone close to my age that lived in the area. I didn’t think too much about it and continued down the path. I spent a few hours looking around the shops and then started the climb back up the path.

He was still outside when I passed again. This time he looked over to me and asked if I had any ‘birra’ in my bags. I did, as it happened, and I lifted a bottle from my bag and showed it to him. His face lit up with a smile and he asked if we could have a drink together. I nodded, walked over and handed him the beer.

I know this sounds crazy but he seemed to have a glow about him. I don’t know what it was but he was just…well, he was just beautiful. He had blazing blue eyes, which is a bit unusual for an Italian man. I felt immediately comfortable in his presence and as we sat down and started talking I felt like I could tell him anything. I felt wrapped in this feeling of safety and trust that I find it hard to describe. This was highly unusual for me as I had always been quite shy and nervous around boys.

As we drank he told me that his name was Matteo and that he was here staying with his father for a while. His parents had divorced when he was very small and he had always lived with his mother in Trieste. He and his father had recently become closer and he decided to come to live with him for a while. I told him about my grandmother and my life back in England. I asked what he was building and he said that his grandfather had built boats and that he thought he’d give it a try. His plan was to build it and have it sailing before the end of the summer. We parted ways not long after we finished our beers, him back to building the boat and me off to meet my family. As I walked away I felt as if he had transferred his glow onto me. I felt like I had fallen in love.

Every day for the next few weeks I walked down into town and back, always bringing beers for Matteo and myself to share. With every day my feelings for him grew and when the time came for my family to go on our annual trip to Venice I was so in love that I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Matteo for a week. I begged my father to let me stay but he was having none of it. I reluctantly told Matteo that he’d have to get his own beer for a week. He smiled and wished us a safe journey. That week in Venice was the most miserable of my life (well, up until that point it was). I was desperate to get back to Matteo.

On the day that we returned I couldn’t wait to see him. I practically ran down the path and was very disappointed to find that he was not outside of his house. The boat was covered with a tarp and I walked over to it while trying to decide whether I should knock on the front door. I’d never actually been inside the house before or even met his father so I felt a bit reluctant to knock. I chickened out and went back to my grandmother’s house.

I went back the next day and this time he was outside working on the boat. He was very happy to see me and said he’d not had a beer all week because it didn’t seem right to have one without me. I asked him if he ever went out in the evenings or did he work on the boat all day and all night? He laughed and said that he’d not gone out much in the evenings because he didn’t know anyone other than me and his father. I told him that my childhood friend Elena and I were meeting at a café that evening and asked him to come along. I was so nervous about asking but I thought it would sound better to be going out as a group with Elena. That way it didn’t sound like a date. He agreed and we arranged to meet in front of his house later that evening.

I hadn’t mentioned Matteo to Elena. I don’t know why exactly, I guess because I didn’t know what he thought of me. I felt a bit like a silly girl with a crush. Elena’s family lived next door to my grandmother so we had known each other all of our lives. She was very outgoing and a lot of fun. I knew that there wouldn’t be any awkward silences with her around. We had a great time that night and it became the regular routine for the three of us to go out in the evenings. My love for Matteo continued to grow the more I got to know him. He continued to be friendly and affectionate but didn’t give me any indications that he thought of me as more than a friend.

As the summer came to an end my family began to pack up to go home. I hoped upon hope that Matteo would tell me that he was in love with me before I left. On my last night the three of us went out as usual. Matteo and Elena both promised to write me and I invited them to come to England to visit sometime. We said our tearful goodbyes (we were all a bit tipsy) and I walked home disappointed that nothing had happened between me and Matteo. I had a vague hope that he would show up at my grandmother’s door in a last minute declaration of love but it didn’t happen. I cried all the way back to England.

I wrote a few times to both Matteo and Elena and I only got one response back from Elena. She told me that she and Matteo had continued the tradition of going out every night and although I felt jealous I didn’t think anything would happen-on one of our nights out I had asked Elena if she thought Matteo was handsome and she said no, he was too tall and skinny for her taste-so I didn’t spend much time thinking about the possibility of the two of them together. That year seemed to go by in slow motion. I couldn’t wait until the next summer and my return to Italy.

The day finally came when I was back in Italy and I couldn’t wait to go to Matteo’s house to see him. I told my grandmother that I would unpack my suitcase later and ran off down the path. I expected to see him outside his house working on the boat just as if no time had passed at all. The boat was still there, covered with a tarp but he was no where to be seen.

Once again I was faced with the prospect of knocking on the door-I never did go inside the house or meet his father the previous summer. This time I went up and knocked. His father answered the door and told me that Matteo was at work. He had gotten a job at a café in town, the same one that we used to go to for our evening excursions. I went down into town and sat at an outside table at the café. I put on my sunglasses and faced away from the door to disguise myself so that I could surprise Matteo when he came over.

He came over to take my order and when I turned around and took off my glasses he was very surprised indeed. He pulled me up and hugged me and told me how good it was to see me and how much he and Elena had missed me. I wondered for a moment about him and Elena, not liking the sound of it, but I pushed the feeling aside as my heart sang with joy at seeing my Matteo again. We chatted briefly before he had to go wait on another table.

While I was waiting for him to come back I spotted Elena walking up to the café. I decided to surprise her just the same so I put my sunglasses back on and held the menu in front of my face. This time it was me who was surprised to see her run up to Matteo, throw her arms around him and kiss him. The customer he was waiting on laughed and Matteo looked embarrassed. He looked over at me and I heard him tell Elena to go see if the lady in the corner with the big sunglasses needed anything. Apparently Elena worked there, too.

I felt frozen to the spot and my heart felt like it was shattering into a million tiny pieces. She came over and I fought back tears as she enveloped me in a hug and told me how happy she was to see me. I quickly made my excuses, saying that I had to get back to my grandmother’s house-I couldn’t wait to get out of there. She made me promise to come back later that evening when she and Matteo got off work so that we could have a drink like old times.

I considered not going back but there was a part of me that hoped that I had got it wrong, maybe I was reading too much into what I had seen. Obviously the two of them had grown very close and I reasoned that friends hug and kiss each other, don’t they? Well, maybe not on the lips but I was still hoping that I had the wrong end of the stick. 

Unfortunately, I had the right end of the stick and it was plunged further into my heart as the two of them told me that evening that they were in love and were planning to get married at the end of the summer. They apologised for not writing to me but explained that they had been so caught up in love for each other that they’d not had time for anything else. I lied through my teeth and told them that I was happy for them but I was consumed with sadness, jealousy, anger and was completely heartbroken. I tried to stay away from them as much as I could that summer, pretending that I had a lot of family obligations but I really just moped around inside my grandmother’s house most of the time. I made up an excuse to go back to England early so that I didn’t have to attend their wedding.

I haven’t really seen them since. I haven’t found anyone else that I love as much as I love him and I just can’t bear to see the two of them happy together. My grandmother gives me updates from time to time-they are still married and have two children. Apparently he still hasn’t finished the boat.

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Laura's Story. Devon, England.

I grew up in a small village in Devon, one of those where everyone knows everyone. My best friend throughout all of my childhood was a boy named Sam. We were the same age and he lived down the lane from us. The other kids in school always made fun of our friendship, taunting us about being in love and all the usual stuff that stupid kids say to each other. We always just laughed it off because we were best friends and neither of us had thought of each other in that way.

On my fourteeth birthday, my mum insisted on having a party, even though I told her that I really didn’t want one. I was going through a phase of thinking that everything was boring and that I was too cool to get involved with anything as mundane as a birthday party. So, because my mother always got what she wanted, we had the party in our back garden.

I was not in the mood to be nice to all of my parents’ friends and all the kids from my school that I really didn’t like that much. Sam was the only one who understood how I was feeling-he’d tried to get out of his birthday party a few months prior but his mum went ahead with it anyway. I think the mums in the village were in some sort of competition with each other to see who could humiliate their children the most. Sam and I spent most of the party up in my room listening to The Smiths and talking about how stupid everyone in the village was.

We were sitting on an old sofa in my room when he told me that he had a birthday present for me. I turned to him and he just sat there looking at me for a minute. I asked where my present was. He leaned forward and kissed me. I didn’t really kiss him back because I was so shocked.

It seemed like it was over before it started and we just sat there looking at each other afterwards. He asked me what I thought. I didn’t know what I thought and said so. I think I was in shock or something because I then asked him if he was going to give me my present. He smiled and told me that was my present. I told him that we should get down to the party because my mum was going to bring out the cake. I felt really mixed up and didn’t feel like talking to him about what happened so I avoided him for the rest of the party.

I stayed mixed up for a while and continued to avoid him at school. He tried calling me but I asked my mum to tell him that I wasn’t feeling well. I just didn’t know what to say. I think he took this to mean that I didn’t like him and after a while he started avoiding me, too. We started growing apart.I felt really sad about it and I tried to talk to him a few times but he was standoffish so I eventually stopped trying. It was pretty obvious that our friendship was over.

Things never got back to how they were and we eventually finished school and both went off to university. I always thought about him and really missed talking to him.

Durning my last year at university I met Paul and we fell in love. He asked me to marry him and I said yes. My mum decided that she would throw us an engagement party and of course she invited everyone in the village.

This time I didn’t hide out in my room and I was really surprised when I saw Sam walk in with his parents. We’d not seen each other since we left school and I was so happy to see him. I went over to greet him and told him to come find me a bit later so that we could catch up. He did, and we ended up talking the whole night. It was as if no time had passed at all. He told me that he was very happy for me and that he had missed talking to me all these years.

After the party, the wedding plans went into full swing. We had decided to have the wedding in Devon so I went back home after graduation to organise it while Paul started his new job in London. Sam had also come back home because he’d gotten a job in Exeter and was living at his parents’ house while he saved up to buy a place of his own.

We met up a few times in the local pub and before I knew it we were meeting up there every evening. We were having a great time together but when I mentioned it to Paul, he wasn’t very happy about it. He said that he didn’t feel comfortable about me spending time with another man, especially one that I had kissed when I was fourteen. I told him he was being ridiculous, that we were just friends, but agreed to cut down on the time I spent with Sam.

I really did try, but I couldn’t say no to Sam when he called the next day to ask if I was going to meet him at the pub when he finished work. Paul and I had a big fight about it and I started having doubts about getting married. It made me angry that getting married meant that I was losing my free will-I wanted to be able to be friends with whomever I wanted and didn’t understand why that should change just because I had a ring on my finger.

I told Sam about it the next night and he said that Paul was probably suspicious and that maybe he had a reason to be. I asked what he meant and he told me that he loved me, that he had loved me since we were kids. I told him I didn’t know what to say and that I thought I’d better go home.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I kept thinking about Sam and Paul and how I felt and what it all meant. I knew that I wasn’t upset by what Sam had said, deep down I think I always knew how he felt and it was starting to become apparent to me that I had always felt the same way but never admitted it to myself. I had to go talk to him. I waited until 5am to go over to see him at his parents’ house-his dad was a farmer and the family was always up early.

His mother was very pleased to see me and told me to go on up to Sam’s room. When I walked in, he jumped out of bed, walked over and kissed me. This time I kissed him back. When we finally came up for air, he stroked my face and asked me if I felt the same way. I nodded and tears started flowing down my face. I was very surprised to see that his eyes were tearing up as well. He told me that he had waited so long for this…his whole life it seemed. We luxuriated in our bubble of happiness for the rest of the day. Unfortunately the bubble burst when he asked what I was going to tell Paul.

That conversation with Paul was horrible. He was so angry but what could I do? I couldn't live a lie. My friends and family were surprised but understanding. Sam and I got married six months later and have been so happy together. I think we were truly meant to be together.

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Belle's Story. Brooklyn, NY, USA.

One July morning in the dead of summer, I awoke at 7:30 to my alarm, stretched, and pulled myself up out of bed to get ready for work. My husband Gaby grumbled at my alarm and rolled over, while our baby daughter Biet slumbered away in her crib, on her belly with her bum in the air, sleeping like a rock. I knew that they would awake together shortly, as they often do (those two always seem to have their sleeping schedules synchronized), after I had gone. I put a pot of coffee on the stove and stepped in the shower, secretly relishing this quiet time to myself before the day's beginning.  I sliced bananas for my greek yogurt and sipped my coffee by the window in the kitchen, looking out onto the quiet Brooklyn day.

It was slow at the restaurant that day, but I didn't mind. I did a bit of creative research in my spare time, when there were no customers, and daydreamed about our summertime adventures.  I envisioned journeys to the beach and outdoor shows in the park, and lazy afternoons with homemade lemonade and watermelon. This was to be our first summer in Brooklyn and I wanted to make it a great one.  We had just hosted Biet's first birthday a few weeks prior, and now that the commotion of friends and family and gifts and excitement had settled down, I felt that the our days belonged, once again, to us three.

Gaby surprised me that afternoon by arriving at the restaurant to pick me up from work, baby and dog in tow.  He waited outside with the biggest grin on his face; a smile full of excitement and love and contentment. I finished up and stepped out into the warm air and he hugged me and told me that he had something to tell me.

"Baby, I'm ready," he said.
"Ready for what?"
"Biet and I had such an amazing day together. I feel that I am really good at being a Dad. I mean, really good. I mean, I really think that out of everything I've ever done, I'm the best at being her father.  So I've decided- I am totally ready to have another one."

I fell silent and stared blankly, completely taken aback by my husband's unconventional greeting. We talked and talked, alternating between laughter and seriousness, as we walked to Prospect Park.  We picked up some seltzers to cool down and stopped to have a little picnic in a grassy patch. Biet pulled out chunks of grass and dirt as we discussed the crazy idea of another baby. On our walk home, I told him that I would need some time to process it all, and we left it at that.

We walked home along one of the prettiest blocks in our neighborhood, a street filled with Victorian mansions and huge crooked trees. The block looks from a movie- perfectly manicured with perfectly painted houses and not a thing out of place. Except on this day there was one thing out of place.  Spoiling the scene was a big cardboard box sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. As we approached the old torn box I could see that it was overflowing with books, falling onto the narrow sidewalk and blocking the way.  Gaby maneuvered the stroller and the leash around the box, and as I followed them I stopped for a second and caught my breath.

Every single book in that box was about being pregnant. Books on pregnancy diet, yoga, health, beauty... A box of pregnancy sitting in the middle of our path.

Not one to follow superstitions, but always one to notice signs and synchronicity, I bought a pregnancy test later that day.  I secretly took it to the bathroom and held my breath as the minutes ticked by. Not Pregnant. Of course I wasn't pregnant, I told myself, I was just being crazy and getting worked up over nothing. How silly.

I thought about Gaby's unexpected announcement all throughout the next day and the next night at work. Was he nuts? Another one- now? We had always known that we wanted more babies in the future, but when was it time for our imagined future to become the present?  Were we prepared to be a family of four? Is anyone ever really prepared?   With Biet still nursing full time, was my body even ready to grow another one?  Deep down I was unbelievably happy that Gaby had been the one to leap into this idea first.  What a man, so thrilled about babies.  I knew that Biet was lucky to have a Papa like him.  And I knew that all of our questions would be answered in time.

I walked slowly home from the subway station that night, along the avenue peppered with street lights and stray cats.  The dark sky and quiet streets put my thoughts to rest. As I approached our block, I noticed a big old car from the early '70's, rusting and falling apart, parked all alone on the side of the road. I thought about my Dad, who taught me to drive on an old Mustang. Then I saw two little shadows on the hood of the car... two little baby shoes. Just sitting there. How peculiar.

I snuck into the apartment quietly and made my way to the bathroom. I watched the little plastic window with such anxiety. Not Pregnant.  What was I doing, I asked myself. It was late and I was reading way too much into randomness, letting my wild belief in signs get the best of me.  Let it go. Go to bed. You are not pregnant.

Gaby awoke early the next morning and made a big pot of coffee for me and a big pot of oatmeal for Biet, Papa's way, with almond butter and honey mixed in.  He brought my mug to the bedside and woke me up gently, as he's always done. I opened my eyes and stretched, but before I could sit up there was a wild baby plopped on my belly, smiling and leaning in to nurse. So Biet got to drink her milk first, then Mama got to drink her coffee.  She finished up and went back to her Papa's arms, and I stood up to start my day.  And then the world began to turn dark and my eyes filled with sparkles. My head felt light so I sat right back down until it passed. It happened again and again throughout the day.

I remembered how with Biet, the first, the only, sign of pregnancy for a long while was lightheadedness.  No matter how slowly I would stand up, I would always feel dizzy and off.  But now I was grasping at straws, I told myself.  I wasn't even longing to be pregnant, I just couldn't shake the odd feeling from the past few days.  I had to stop. There was one test left in the box, and I knew that I had to get rid of it and stop obsessing over all of these coincidences.  So I vowed to read the Not Pregnant message one last time, and get back to my summer. No more tests, no more craziness. We would return to this journey when we actually began trying for number two.

I placed the test on the counter and began washing my face. I rinsed the soap, pressed a towel to my face, and opened my eyes.

Pregnant.

It was true. All along.  When Gaby had picked me up from work, there was already a baby growing in my belly, a baby who will be born when Biet is one year and nine months old. Funny how the universe works sometimes.  It was a baby I didn't even know that I wanted. But as I read that declaration over and over, Pregnant, I wanted it more than anything.

Story and photos by the author, please contact her via her blog for guidance on use.

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Joe & Claire's story. Kansas City, MO, USA/ Nailsworth, England.

Joe McDonald, then 18, first met Claire Walker, then 24, when he was posted to a base in Fairford, Gloucestershire, England with his job in the US Air Force.

The couple fell in love after their first drink at the Egypt Mill pub in Claire’s home town of Nailsworth, England in 1989.



©SWNS

They spent a romantic year together and planned to marry but were forced to split up and lost contact when Joe was posted to Florida in 1990 with his job.

The next year, Claire fell in love on a work holiday to Ibiza and ended up staying there to marry her husband until 2010 - with whom she has a son, 13, and a daughter, 15.

Meanwhile Joe moved to Louisiana and met his wife on a blind date, with whom he had a son.

But 20 years later, Joe - who had split up from his wife - was able to get in contact with divorcee Claire by posting a message on the Nailsworth town website.

The couple is now set to marry - with Claire, now 47, and her children set to move in with Joe, now 40, in Kansas City, Missouri, next year.

Claire said she was “heartbroken” when Joe was forced to move away back in 1989.

She said: “We had such a great time together we were just like any young couple in love. We would have liked to have got married but his parents said he was too young.

“It was different back then, there was no internet or mobile phones. He had my address but he never got back in touch and I was so upset.

“I went to Spain on a work holiday and ended up falling for a guy there who became my husband. I was on the rebound from Joe and I just stayed over there.

“I kept thinking about Joe, every time I saw Afghanistan on the news I would wonder if he was flying there but I never thought I would hear from him again.

“But one day, when I was in a hard place because of my divorce, my brother phoned and said ‘you'll never guess who is looking for you’ and told me to go on the website.

“My heart just stopped. Within 24 hours I had sent him an email and we were falling in love again.”

Joe - who had kept a picture of him and Claire from 1989 - decided to get back in touch with his sweetheart and posted a message on the Nailsworth website on August 25.

It read: “My name is Joe McDonald and I was stationed at RAF Fairford from 1990 - 1992 and met a wonderful person named Claire Walker from Nailsworth.

“She use to work at the Town Centre Supermarket but I forget the name. She had a brother that was training to fly.

“I would love to get in touch with Claire if anyone could help me.”

Claire’s brother Brett spotted the message and called his sister in Ibiza to get her to have a look.

She immediately responded and within 24 hours was chatting again to Joe. The couple fell back in love online over the next four months and pledged to spend their lives together.

In May 2010, the mother-of-two flew to meet him in Kansas City and spent a week with him.

“I was at the airport and I felt a shaking hand touch me on the shoulder. I looked round and it was Joe. I had butterflies, it felt exactly as it had 20 years ago,” she said.

Joe then visited Claire at home in Stroud, in May 2011, for two weeks. Claire returned back to Kansas City in March this year.

The couple plan to marry and live together, with Claire and her children moving to America next year.

Source: Yahoo! News





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King Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson. London, England.

King Edward VIII did something that monarchs do not have the luxury of doing - he fell in love. King Edward was in love with Mrs. Wallis Simpson, not only an American, but also a married woman already once divorced. Yet, in order to marry the woman he loved, King Edward was willing to give up the British throne - and he did.

To some, this was the love story of the century. To others, it was a scandal that threatened to weaken the monarchy. In reality, the story of King Edward VIII and Mrs. Wallis Simpson never fulfilled either of these notions. Instead, the story is about a prince who wanted to be like everyone else.

On January 10, 1931, Prince Edward attended a party. It was here that he met Mrs. Wallis Simpson and her husband Ernest Simpson. Though Prince Edward was soon to be infatuated with Mrs. Simpson, she didn't make a big impression on Edward at their first meeting.

Mrs. Wallis Simpson was born Wallis Warfield on June 19, 1896 in Maryland, United States. Though Wallis came from a distinguished family in the United States, in the United Kingdom being an American was not highly regarded. As Wallis grew into a young woman, she was not necessarily considered pretty. Yet Wallis had a sense of style and pose that made her distinguished and attractive. She had radiant eyes, good complexion and fine, smooth black hair which she kept parted down the middle for most of her life.

Though many blame Mrs. Wallis Simpson for seducing the Prince, it seems rather more likely that she was herself seduced by the glamor and power of being close to the heir of Britain's throne. At first Wallis was just glad to have become included in the Prince's circle of friends. According to Wallis, it was in August 1934 that their relationship became more serious. During that month, the Prince took a cruise on Lord Moyne's yacht, the Rosaura. Though both Simpsons were invited, Ernest Simpson could not accompany his wife on the cruise because of a business trip to the United States. It was on this cruise, Wallis stated, that she and the Prince "crossed the line that marks the indefinable boundary between friendship and love."

When King George V, Edward's father, passed away, Prince Edward became King Edward VIII. However, his infatuation with Wallis had grown so extreme that he was severely distracted from his State duties. Some thought she might be a German spy handing State papers over to the German government. The relationship between King Edward and Mrs. Wallis Simpson came to an impasse when he was warned that the government might resign en masse if it continued.

King Edward was faced with three options: give up Wallis, keep Wallis and government would resign, or abdicate and give up the throne. Since King Edward had decided that he wanted to marry Mrs. Wallis Simpson, he had little choice but to abdicate. Mrs. Wallis Simpson sued for a divorce from Ernest Simpson, which was granted, and Wallis and Edward married in a small ceremony on June 3, 1937.

To Edward's great sorrow, he received a letter on the eve of his wedding from King George VI stating that by abdicating, Edward was no longer entitled to the tile "Royal Highness." But, out of generosity for Edward, King George was going to allow Edward the right to hold that title, but not his wife or any children. This greatly pained Edward for the rest of his life, for it was a slight to his new wife.

After the abdication, the Duke and Duchess were exiled from Great Britain. Though a number of years had not been established for the exile, many believed it would only last a few years; instead, it lasted their entire lives. Royal family members shunned the couple. The Duke and Duchess lived out most of their lives in France with the exception of a short term in the Bahamas as governor.

Edward passed away on May 28, 1972, a month shy of his 78th birthday. Wallis lived for fourteen more years, many of which were spent in bed, secluded from the world. She passed away on April 24, 1986, two months shy of 90.

Source: Jennifer Rosenberg, About.com guide







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Susan's Story. USA.

I had an obgyn appointment scheduled on the morning Ava was born.

11am.

At just before 9 o'clock, I sent the kids off to school. Got a bucket bowl of cereal. Went upstairs to eat it in bed. I did that when I was the size of a house.

When I stood up, I felt oddly like I had peed myself just a wee bit.

I looked down at the mattress to find I might have.

I smiled. Which is creepy since I was alone in the room.

I probably talked to myself since I do that. Also creepy.

I went to the bathroom to find that my water was indeed leaking.

No big dramatic gush. Nothing like in the movies.

But definitely something.

I called the doctor's office to tell them and asked if I should come in for my regular appointment or just go directly to the hospital.

They asked us to come in.

We did. They confirmed.

And off to the hospital we went...

We arrived, checked in and were told I would be started on pitocin right away in an effort to get the labor moving.

Yeah.

It moved on it's own well and good within about an hour.

They moved me to an odd recliner in labor and delivery. Not the most comfortable place to labor but of course, there were no beds available.

So I sat. Kinda crouched. Almost cried. Tried not to.

For what felt like forever.

At some point, I went to the bathroom and couldn't made it back.

Just stood there in the doorway looking at my helpless husband with that do something look. 

You know the one.

A nurse asked if I wanted an epidural.

Duh.

She tried to start an I.V. 

She butchered me. It hurt. A lot.

At that moment a room became available.

Lucky for her.

We moved.

They checked me.

5 cm.

No wonder it hurt so much.

Within minutes I had an epidural in place.

Less than an hour later, I was ready to meet this baby girl.

One trial push. The nurse was like woah.

I am good at pushing. I don't want to brag or anything but it's true.

I know this because with the first real push our sweet angel was born.



I also know this because the next day, my labor and delivery nurse brought another nurse into my room to meet the girl who pushed once. 

That's me. 

Our Ava girl rocked my world.

I have and never will be the same.

Have your birth story or love story (or both!) added to the collection by emailing it to: thelovecollector@gmail.com

Photos by the author, please contact her via her blog for guidance on use.






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Paul & Linda McCartney. London, England.

As celebrity marriages went, theirs was an anomaly—a world famous couple who couldn't bear to be apart even after three decades. Paul stated many times that they had only ever spent 11 days apart-when he was in jail in Japan for marijuana possession.

They met in 1967 when Linda, a successful photographer, went to London to take snaps of the Beatles and was introduced to Paul at a London nightclub. Two days later, at a party, the pair clicked. "A lot of the girls I had met were just girls," said Paul. "She was a real woman."

Later that year, Linda accompanied Paul to England but, having been married once, she repeatedly told him that she had no intention of doing it again. "I wanted to be me and not have men tell me what I should be," she said. In March 1969, Linda changed her tune, and the couple married at London's Marylebone Registery Office.

The McCartneys pursued a shaggy, iconoclastic lifestyle, raising their four children in the remote countryside of Sussex and educating them in the local public school.

"Even though we have our ups and downs, we really do like being together," Paul said. "My Love," "No More Lonely Nights," "The Lovely Linda"—one of the world's best songwriters could not stop putting his feelings into music. "Any love song I write," Paul said, "is written for Linda."

Source: People Magazine

 

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Joanne Woodward & Paul Newman. California, USA.

On a Hollywood landscape littered with countless broken marriages, the Newman-Woodward pairing became the gold standard.

Newman once attributed their lasting union to "correct amounts of lust and respect."

He offered an oft-quoted response when asked in Playboy magazine about the temptations of other women: "I have steak at home. Why go out for hamburger?"

The couple met and fell in love while Newman made his 1953 Broadway debut in William Inge's "Picnic," in which Woodward was an understudy. Five years later, shortly after Newman and his first wife divorced, he married the petite blond in a Las Vegas civil ceremony.

The couple moved into an 18th-century Connecticut farmhouse, a decision that Woodward later said solidified their marriage. "We were never Hollywood people," the Oscar-winning actress told the Daily News in 2001. "We just liked it better here. It also probably helps that we always enjoyed each other's company."

When Woodward returned to Sarah Lawrence College to earn her degree at age 60, she graduated with youngest daughter Clea. Newman marked the occasion by delivering the commencement address.

"Joanne," Newman once said, "is one of the last of the great broads."

Source: NY Daily News










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Amanda's Story. Georgia, USA.

My love story starts 17 years ago when I met Mike.  I had just started working at the hospital in town, and Mike was in nursing school and working there as well.  He had been divorced about a year at that time and had two young sons.  I turned him down the first time he asked me out……I am so glad that reconsidered.

You see, growing up, I often had dreams of what my ideal guy would be like-tall, super-model handsome, wealthy, and doting-all wrapped into one.  We would meet, fall in love, and travel theworld- just like in the movies.  However, I spent so much time looking for this made up fellow, that I missed opportunities to date seemingly regular yet probably wonderful guys.  As a result, I had never gotten serious with anyone. 

The truth is, the dream man I made up in my head did not exist exactly as I pictured, and

I am glad.  I found something even better with Mike.  He accepted me – quirks and all – and made me feel special just as I was.  He is my ideal mate.  He is shorter than me, but bigger in

personality and still the most handsome and romantic man in the world.  He is a dedicated husband and father, and I could not be luckier to have him.  We have four wonderful children, and I hope

that they will be as fortunate in love as we have been.

Have your love story added to the collection by emailing it to: thelovecollector@gmail.com

Artwork has been created by the amazingly talented and generous Valentina Ramos. Check out her blog: Feeling Inspired







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Connie's Story. Arizona, USA.

**All of these pictures were taken on the day we met.

April 22, 2006 is a day I will never forget.  It was the day I met my husband, my best friend, my eternal companion.

Our story starts out a little different than most. Several years prior to the day that Tony and I met, my sister had become good friends with a band member at the Especially for Youth program at Brigham Young University (BYU). When she left for the army years later she took their CD with her. I was a fan of their music and wanted to get another copy of their CD, so I emailed the band member that I thought was the cutest (Tony!) to ask for another CD. That was in 2003.

So how does that get us to Salt Lake City, Utah on April 22, 2006? I was a student BYU and one day I was going through old emails and found the ones from him. So I looked him up on myspace to see if he was still cute and oh, he was…more like HOT!  So I emailed him asking him why he never sent me that CD. He emailed back and said he was away on a mission. He sent his address and asked me to write to him for the last few months that he was there. I did, and we still have all the letters and pictures that we sent to each other during that time. They are all so precious to me.

Well, he gets home from his mission and what’s the first thing he does? He calls me! Ok, so it was like a few days later, actually. We kept on calling each other and would talk on the phone for hours, it was so perfect. At this time I had moved up to BYU-Idaho for winter semester. He told me he was going to Utah for a wedding reception and he wanted me to meet up with him. I tossed the idea back and forth in my head. After just breaking up with someone (sorta…it's a weird story), I wasn't really ready to get dissed again. I didn’t want to ruin the amazing friendship we had by meeting- what if he thought I was repulsive?!  

But then I decided it didn't matter- if he didn't find me attractive, he wasn't worth my time anyway so we might as well see where this goes! Plus, he sang "Quit Playing Games With My Heart" to me over the phone when I told him I wasn't coming after already saying once that I was. How can you say no after that one?!

So the day we actually met was like a movie scene. I don't remember many days in my life this vividly but this day I do. I was sitting in my car, the sun was getting low in the sky and I had just pulled in the parking lot of his friend’s reception. I called him and told him I was there, and he said he was there, too and that he'd meet me at my car. In my rear view mirror, I saw him get out of his Jeep (that I helped him pick out in a letter-now it’s our Jeep) and start to walk towards me. I felt butterflies like never before and I swear he was the cutest guy I'd ever seen. 

I got out of my car, and our eyes met for the first time and we both just lit up with huge smiles. Then the next thing I know we're both running towards each other and embrace in a huge, long-time-no-see kind of a hug. We were instant best friends and to my surprise nothing changed in the friendship we had built over the phone and through letters. In fact, it was better! He was the perfect height, had the style I like in a guy, and so nice! Not to mention hilarious, crazy, humble, awesome, perfect, amazing, sexy, la la la etc., etc.!

He put his arm around me as we went into the reception, and after a short time he wanted to get out of there and hang out in

Temple Square

, where we snuck onto the top of the Conference Center (rebel kids) and watched the sunset. After that, we just sat and talked in my car, watching the city lights and laughed and talked forever. He got me to drink a Mountain Dew and we both played my guitar, which I kept in my trunk. My favorite part was taking pictures and videos with him. Seriously, who feels that comfortable instantly with a person-I'm sure some people do, but not me…no, not ever!  

I will never forget sitting in the grass in front of the Salt Lake City Temple taking cell phone pictures of each other to put with our names in our phones, and how he and I talked about how we both wanted a music room in our house. He said, "Well, when we get married, we'll have a music room." I'm telling you, it was like nothing else.

Late that night after I dropped him off I was driving up a windy hill and I got the text, "I really wanted to kiss you just now." I had to pull over to respond, I was so excited!  It was one of the best days ever-and I will be forever grateful to Heavenly Father for crossing our paths so we could fall in love and have this great life together. Boy, did we fall in love! The next day was our first hand hold and kiss and less than six months later we were married for time and all eternity in the Mesa, Arizona temple. I love Tony so much. This day is so special to me.

Have your love story added to the collection by emailing it to: thelovecollector@gmail.com

Artwork has been created by the amazingly talented and generous Valentina Ramos. Check out her blog: Feeling Inspired

Photos by the author, please contact her via her blog for guidance on use.

www.what-is-walthamstow-like.blogspot.com